


Hitting the Sweet Spot

by alba17



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff, Slice of Life, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fury gives Natasha an unusual assignment. All she has to do is wear neon pink and throw a ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitting the Sweet Spot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> canadiandiamond/haywire, I hope you enjoy this. I tried to do a slice of life, after work sort of story. For simplicity's sake, this is set before the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Many thanks to J for the beta.

Fury's voice is steely. "Prove yourself a team player or be stuck behind a desk. There are plenty of empty offices over at the Pentagon just begging for another suit." One eye pins Natasha to the chair where she sits stiffly, heart thumping. "Or there's always Russia, if they'll take you back. But personally, Ukraine is not where I'd want to be right now.

Fucking hell. Fury’s being a dick. Just because one tiny thing went wrong on the Toronto mission, he’s giving her shit. She’s always come through, always, but this one time, it didn't go down right and now he’s on her ass.

"Assuming you don't want to wear a suit and makeup to work anytime soon, Agent Hill's got your new assignment. Go see her. I'll just warn you now, it's...unconventional."

Okay, Fury saying it’s unconventional? Scary as shit.

"Now get out," Fury orders. 

*

Natasha doesn’t like the look on Agent Hill's face. "So let me get this straight,” Hill says. “Fury sent you to me for your new assignment?"

Natasha nods.

"And he's not happy with you?"

"Something about how it went down in Toronto. Claims I didn't work with the team, screwed it up because I insisted on doing my own thing. I don't know." Fury had never had a problem with the way Natasha had operated before, but the Toronto mission had some strange quirks and Natasha had admittedly gone out on a limb in the way she dealt with them.

Agent Hill reads something on her monitor. "Well, okay, I'm looking at his notes and he wants you to work on teamwork." Her face changes expression abruptly. Natasha can see her swallow. "Oh. Um. Okay. This is unusual."

"He warned me it would be unconventional."

Agent Hill looks up at her. "It is." Her expression softens. "But it's not bad. You might even enjoy it."

Okay. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't panic. It’s softball.”

"What?"

"Fury thinks you have problems working with a team. Too much of a lone wolf, he says." Hill looks apologetic. "I'm afraid I told him I'm on a softball team and he got the idea that would be good for you." She clears her throat. "You know, playing on a team? Not exactly subtle, I know. But it's better than a desk job."

Natasha scowls at her. "Yeah, I suppose." This was a strange development. “I’m really not into team sports. Like, at all. Never was.” Her childhood definitely did not involve playing soccer in suburban leagues. She’s used to facing challenges alone and adjusting her style isn’t going to be easy.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

“Well, I don’t have a choice, so I’m in.”

She could use a break. Toronto had been rough. She'd use this time to relax. Fury always had his own bizarre agenda. As long as he let her go on missions after this was over, she wasn't going to sweat it. 

Hill shakes her hand like they’ve made the deal of the century. “Honestly, I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

“Enough with the hard sell, Agent Hill. Let’s just get on with it.”

 

*

Bright and early, Hill drags her to a sporting goods store with racks of neon colored running clothes and a sea of red Washington Nationals gear. She bypasses all that, making a beeline for the softball section. 

Natasha leans against a display of what looks suspiciously like athletic cups.

“This is about your size,” Maria says as she holds up a neon pink bat. 

“Does it have to be pink?” 

“That’s all they have.” 

“Fine,” Natasha grabs it. 

Maria smirks. Then she hands Natasha a neon pink helmet. 

“For god’s sake,” Natasha grumbles.

“It’s not my fault.” 

“At least tell me the uniform isn’t pink.”

Maria looks up and thins her lips.

“Oh god.”

“Black catsuits aren’t normal softball attire.”

Natasha glares. “It’s not a catsuit,” she says flatly. “It’s highly evolved technical…apparel. And it looks damn good on me.”

Maria looks away suddenly. “Yeah, it does.”

Natasha files that reaction away.

They come out of the store with a bat, a helmet, glove, shoes and various other gear. Maria stuffs the numerous bags in the back of her black Mini.

“Is SHIELD paying for this stuff?” Natasha says. 

“Do you think I’d let Fury get away with not paying for it? No way.”

At least Hill’s got her back.

 

*

Natasha looks ridiculous. The image in the mirror is pretty much the opposite of a sleek super-spy. The helmet encloses her entire head, with bars across her face like some sort of medieval torture device. The slick day-glow pink jersey reads Navy Employees Credit Union Comets. She’s wearing fucking knickers and lime green knee socks with flaming softballs on them. Actually the flames are kind of cool.

She sighs and heads out the door to the first practice.

 

*

 

Hill introduces her to some of the other players. Donna is a redhead whose face is dotted with freckles, long hair caught in a ponytail pulled through the back of her Washington Capitols’ baseball cap.

“Hiya. Natasha? Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

Donna pumps her hand with a good, strong grip. She’s trim and athletic-looking. Natasha isn't surprised when Hill says, "Donna's our unofficial captain."

“And this is Trina,” Maria says, introducing her to a petite dark-haired woman with the squared-off build of a pug.

“Hi, welcome to the team,” Trina gives her a big smile, eyes crinkling. "You ever played before?"

"Afraid not. Hill, er, Maria, has some weird idea this'll be good for me."

Maria chimes in. "She's in excellent shape. She'll pick it right up."

Trina gives Natasha a once over. "I can tell. I'm sure you'll do great. Anyway, this is all for fun, we don't take it too seriously."

"Speak for yourself, Lopez," Donna says. 

"She's kidding," Maria whispers into Natasha's ear.

Donna continues: “Once everyone’s here, we’ll do some batting practice and after that practice throwing."

“Sounds good,” Maria says. “Come on,” she says to Natasha, “stash your gear over here.” They head to the area behind the fence that divides the field from the surrounding area, where there are a couple of benches for the players, and hang their gear on the fence.

*

You’d think the simple act of hitting a ball with a bat would be fairly easy. Especially for a super spy-assassin-Avenger-SHIELD agent with a long list of kills to her name. Natasha only hits the ball once after umpteen pitches. When she does, she stands there in shock until they yell at her to run. When her foot hits first base, she feels inordinately pleased.

The team seems like a good group, a mix of office workers, teachers and a couple of stay at home moms and professionals mixed in. Regular people, the kind she rarely encounters. Natasha always lived on the outskirts of normality and she’s happy that way - it’s who she is - but it's refreshing to pretend for a little while that she’s part of ordinary life. She doesn’t have anything to prove; no one has super powers (as far as she knows), and these women are blissfully unaware of the unseen dangers that SHIELD battles.

*

The next day Natasha aches in places she didn’t know she had. She's in great shape but apparently softball uses her muscles in new and exciting ways. “What gives with that, Hill?” she says as she stretches one arm behind her back. 

Maria chuckles. "Thought you were tougher than that, Romanoff. It's called sports. Give it a couple more practices and you'll get acclimated."

*

Maria's right. After a couple weeks of practices, Natasha's starting to get the hang of it and enjoy herself. Soon she's throwing and pitching with the best of them. Well, maybe not the best of them, but she's doing all right.

Next practice, just for kicks, she throws in a somersault running from second to third. Everyone whistles.

"Hey, Romanoff, nice little move there!" one of the outfielders calls out.

She gets a little thrill from that.

*

On Fridays, the team goes to a pizza place after practice. Maria settles into the booth next to Natasha, along with Donna and Trina. 

"So what do you think?" Maria asks.

All around them teammates banter and laugh, having a plain old good time. Natasha is sweaty and caked with dirt. She takes a sip of beer from an ice cold glass and realizes she's happy. She hasn't felt that way in a long time, not really. She's felt the satisfaction of a job well done, enemies defeated and the world saved for another day. She's felt the relief of finding out Clint was safe after a close call; the camaraderie of the Avengers relaxing after a battle won.

But there's something different about this feeling, surrounded by ordinary women; a feeling of safety and friendship that makes it possible to forget the very real dangers she spends most of her life fighting.

SHIELD can be a lonely place. Agents have to choose between a normal life with car pools and the PTA, and one devoted to protecting the world from dangers it isn't even aware of. Relationships can be liabilities. And even if you're lucky enough to have a partner, you can never tell them the truth about your job. 

"You've got something here," Maria says, her hand reaching up to hover near Natasha's cheek. "Some dirt." Natasha lifts her hand and Maria stops her. "Here, let me." She dunks a napkin in a glass of water and gently wipes the dirt away. Her fingertips graze Natasha's face, light and warm. For a few seconds, Natasha isn't aware of anything other than the nearness of Maria's face. 

"There." Maria puts the napkin on the table. "That's better."

It isn't anything, it's just a simple gesture, but Natasha feels something open up inside her, like a stopped up spigot suddenly flowing with sweet, clean water.

She gives Maria a lazy smile, the warmth of the beer and the company seeping into her tired muscles. "I never thought I'd say this, but I like it. I guess Fury was right. You don't know how much it kills me to say that."

Maria nudges her with her shoulder. "I was hoping you'd feel that way. There's no better way to let off steam after getting off work. I can get out there on the field and forget about everything, just focus on hitting the ball or getting to the next base, or even just being outside, the sun on my face on a nice day. Somehow it all just falls away when I'm out there. And these guys," she gestures to the rest of the team, whooping at somebody's joke, "they don't know anything about what we do, they're regular people living their lives. I get to hear about their families, their annoying bosses, the blouse that got ruined by the dry cleaner, regular stuff that I don't have in my own life. There's something reassuring about that, something that makes it all worth it. These are the people that we do it for."

Natasha looks around at the women caught up in conversations, laughing as they pull long strands of cheese from their pizza, going over the plays of the game. 

She realizes Maria's right. These are the people they do it for, so everyday people can continue with their lives without having to know about things like the Chitauri or Loki or HYDRA. They shouldn't have to know about them. They're tired with that good, deep-down tiredness of physical exertion out in the sunshine, cheeks pink from the sun, faces shiny and grubby with sweat. But they're happy.

Natasha downs the rest of her beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She finds herself catching Maria's eye and smiling, the glow of the moment suffusing her. 

"Thanks, you know," she says.

"For what?"

"This." She nods to the group. "I don't know if it made me more of a team player like Fury wanted, but it's been a lot more fun than I expected. I mean, at first, I was like, softball? Really? I couldn't imagine I would like it. But I do. These guys are great. And it's nice to hang out with regular people for a change, if you know what I mean. And I think you do."

Maria grins and rolls her eyes. "Oh believe me, I do." 

They both know the foibles and difficulties of dealing with the out-sized personalities of the other Avengers, earth-based or otherwise.

"If it helps, I'll report to the Director that you're a much better team player now. Because it's true."

Natasha raises an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can see a difference in the way you deal with other people.”

“Okay, _boss lady_.”

“You scoff but that’s why we’re doing this, why Fury sent you out here with the team. He might be inscrutable at times - he’s never one to share much - but generally he knows what he’s doing. And he knows you, Natasha, you know he does.”

Natasha ponders that. Fury took a chance on her. For that matter, she’d taken a chance on SHIELD. It seemed to have worked out for both parties. “I haven’t heard from him since this started. Do you think that’s good or bad?”

“With the Director, you never know, but I’m guessing it’s probably good. He’s not shy about expressing his opinions.”

Natasha considers that. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Soon she could get back to business. But in the meantime...

“How about another round?” she asks Maria.

Maria picks up her glass and drains it. “Sure thing.”

Natasha scrambles out of the booth and makes her way to the bar to order another beer for the two of them. After giving her order to the bartender, she leans against the bar. One of the other team members comes up to her, Bridget. 

“Hi, Natasha.” Bridget gestures for a drink and turns to face Natasha. “Good game.”

“It was.” She looks over to Maria, chatting amiably with Donna and Trina, and pushes hair out of her face. It had come undone from the ponytail holder by the end of the game. 

“So how long have you two been dating?” Bridget asks, her face open and friendly.

Natasha flushes. “Oh, we’re not dating.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I think Maria’s had her eye on you for awhile. None of us were surprised when you showed up to practice.”

Her throat feels thick suddenly. “Really?” she manages to say after a moment. “So, um, you guys knew about me before?” 

“Sure. Maria mentioned you a couple of times, says you guys work together.” Bridget looks her up and down. “She didn’t say you were a total hottie.”

Natasha avoids Bridget’s brazen gaze.

“But I’m not surprised. I mean, look at _her_.” 

Natasha follows Bridget’s gaze over to Maria. Her hair's loose in dark waves over her shoulders, a contrast to the way she wears it at work in a tight, practical bun. Her color's high as she talks animatedly to her friends, lots of gestures and laughing. Her neck is a long, graceful line, her body slim and muscled. 

Maria's beautiful. Why hadn't Natasha realized it before?

*

The season continues and the team gets into a groove. Natasha finds that she most enjoys playing pitcher. That way she’s in control. She can observe each batter’s individual quirks and respond accordingly. She’s not yet good enough to completely dominate but she improves with each game. 

“You’re definitely getting the hang of it,” Trina tells her after they win against the Ace Hardware Valkyries.

Donna fistbumps her. “You go, girl.”

Maria beams at her and Natasha feels a little weak-kneed.  
*

 

The championship game: they make it to the play-offs, which seems like a minor miracle to Natasha. What’s more, Donna entrusts Natasha with pitching. Natasha is surprisingly honored, and excited about the play-off. These women have become friends over the last couple of months, people with whom she feels comfortable. She wants to earn their respect, to prove herself; a familiar feeling, but at least the stakes aren't life and death. Nonetheless, it feels important. They all want the win, badly.

Before the game starts, everyone's getting their gear out, preparing for the game. It's one of those crystal clear late summer days when the sky is brilliantly blue and the air is turning crisp. Natasha and Maria didn't talk much on the way over; they were both a bit nervous. Natasha swings her bat a few times to warm up. She feels good, like she's on top of things, with just enough adrenaline to give her an edge. 

Maria puts a hand on her shoulder and pulls her to the side, away from the other players. "You got his," she says, looking Natasha in the eye. "You've made amazing strides. I know you can do it. We're gonna kick their butts." 

"You betcha." 

They smile at each other for a moment, then Maria leans in and kisses Natasha on the cheek. "Good luck." She turns and goes back to the others. Natasha touches her face where the imprint of Maria's lips tingles and watches Maria walk away.

 

In seven innings, Natasha doesn’t let a runner on base and the Comets lead 2-0. She knows better than to be over-confident, but hope for a shut-out licks through her, until their opponents suddenly get a run in the eighth inning.

“You want someone else to pitch?” she asks Donna. If she lets another run in, the game will be tied.

Donna looks her in the eye. “Nope. I trust you to pull it out.”

Natasha steels herself to the task and throws two players out, Then something slips and three players in a row get on base, so the bases are loaded. She _has_ to get the next player out. 

Maria catches her eye and mouths, “You can do it.” Natasha nods. She carefully aims and throws the ball. _Thwack._ It's a good hit and her stomach sinks as the ball arcs through the air toward the outfield. She watches helplessly as it flies over her head right toward Maria. The suspense is palpable as Maria shifts her position back and forth, glove in the air, eyes glued to the ball, waiting to see where it lands. She stretches her arm as it comes closer, her glove open for the catch. 

Natasha holds her breath.

Whack. Maria catches it. She jumps up and yells, “Yes!” Natasha and the rest of the team run toward her, glomming on to each other in a big huddle, hugging and cheering. 

They’ve won!

 

*

“So, Agent Romanoff,” Maria gives her a sly smile. “It’s not only the Winter Soldier who has a powerful arm.”

Natasha blushes, which is ridiculous. “It was close there.”

“Not really. You can’t expect to throw a shut-out in your first season. I’d say you did damn good for a beginner.”

“Is that so, Agent Hill?” Natasha teases. “Am I officially a team player now?”

“I’d say so. If Fury wants, I’ll fill out an affidavit.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary. I’ll take a return to my regular duties. Softball’s fun and all, but I have the feeling there are some bad guys I need to catch. Evil never rests and all that.”

“Before that, I think we need to celebrate.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Perhaps something more private than our previous celebrations.” 

Natasha keeps her face neutral, but her heart rate speeds up. “Oh yeah?”

Maria hooks her arm through Natasha’s, pressing close and leaning in, their faces just inches apart. “I have reservations at Bastille,” she says, naming one of the area’s most romantic restaurants. “They’re having a special wine dinner - champagne at every course. Thought it might be fun.” 

Her breath catches. Champagne is Natasha’s favorite. “Maria, that sounds wonderful. Are you sure you can handle champagne at every course?” She arches an eyebrow, already considering what to wear. "Remember, I'm Russian."

“Is that a dare? Because I can handle it, believe me.” She wraps an arm around Natasha’s waist. “I can handle anything you throw my way.”

 

*

21:00 sharp. Natasha is already waiting in front of the restaurant when Maria gracefully steps out of a taxi on four-inch heels that accentuate her endless legs. She's poured into a silver-black cocktail dress that perfectly hugs her form. 

Natasha’s mouth is dry. “You clean up good, Agent Hill,” she says. 

Maria’s gaze roams over Natasha, who's wearing an emerald green dress that exposes the top of her breasts and complements her coloring. “You too, Agent Romanoff.”

They meet on the sidewalk and Natasha has to restrain the impulse to throw Maria onto the hood of the taxi right there and then. She satisfies herself with skimming a hand up Maria’s bare upper arm, then down to tangle their fingers together. She can’t take her eyes off this sexed-up version of Maria. Normally she's restrained and contained, very much in control. Tonight her hair is down, carefree and sexy, and she's like a different person; she even moves differently, like she's ready to dance. Long silver earrings dangle and catch the light, making Natasha want to sweep her hand through her deep brown hair. Carried on a fresh wave of attraction, she pulls Maria in close for a kiss. Maria’s mouth is cool and soft and there's a trace of an enticing perfume.

“You know,” Natasha says in a low tone, “if all you wanted was a date, you could’ve just asked.”

Maria laughs as they enter the restaurant. “What, and miss seeing you on the pitcher’s mound all sweaty and dirty? No way.” She gives her name to the hostess. “But seriously, it was Fury’s idea, not mine.”

Natasha gives her a look. “I never took him for a matchmaker.”

“He has endless depths. Believe me, he had serious issues with the Toronto mission and how you played it. But he might have had a little gleam in his eye when we talked about it."

Natasha kisses her cheek just as the hostess is ready to show them to their table.

The dinner is delicious, the champagne goes immediately to their heads, and whenever their eyes meet, an electric current races through Natasha's whole body. They can't seem to stop touching each other: fingers brush when they both reach for the bread, legs graze against each other under the table.

When they get to Maria's apartment, Natasha pushes her against the door and envelopes her mouth in a bruising kiss. Her hands sweep up Maria's flanks, her muscled thighs and trim hips. "Oh god. Finally. I've been itching to do this all night ever since you got out of that cab. I've never seen you like this. It's driving me crazy."

Maria gasps as Natasha grinds their hips together. "Bedroom," she manages to say. "Now, before we end up on the floor." 

"Would that be so bad?" Natasha says as Maria grabs her hand and drags her to the bedroom with desperate fervor.

"I got too many bruises for that." She grins. "Maybe another time."

Natasha whoops as Maria pushes her down on the bed and falls on top of her. Maria doesn't weigh much but she has a heft and a sinuous shape and Natasha loves the feeling of her body pressing down on her, the way her hands can almost span the deceptively delicate torso. She works a hand up Maria's dress and gropes her ass, the lush softness making her hips thrust upward.

They kiss for several minutes, getting to know the feel of each other's body. Maria tangles her hand in Natasha''s hair and Natasha cups her face gently before pecking a series of kisses down Maria's long neck down to her collarbone. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmurs into her skin. "When did that happen?"

"I think you were too busy to notice. And you're not so bad looking yourself."

Natasha grins, then busies herself with getting their clothes off as quickly as possible.

 

Maria's phone buzzes when it's barely light out. Natasha squints to see Maria rubbing her eyes and groggily picking up the phone from the bedside. "Fury," she mouths to Natasha. "Yes, sir....no problem. Copy that." Then, "Natasha?....um. She's here."

Natasha suppresses a giggle and smoothes her hand down Maria's stomach, brushing her fingers over the curls below. Maria flaps her hand to stop, her voice getting a little breathy as she continues to talk to the boss. "You should have seen Natasha pitch, Director....Yeah, you should come watch next time."

"Next time?" Natasha mouths. One finger gently delves lower, skimming over Maria's sex, dipping between the lips where it's still moist from last night. 

Maria hisses a breath and sinks down lower. "Yes, sir, it went down exactly as you predicted." She swats Natasha's arm, but Natasha has no intention of stopping. She presses harder with her fingertip, moving up and down until Maria's eyelids lower and her breath becomes ragged. "Director, I've got another call coming in. I'll have to call you back." She throws her phone to the side and pulls Natasha into a passionate kiss. "You are evil. And ridiculously hot. What if Fury guessed what was going on?"

Natasha lies down between Maria's legs, all smooth endless skin, and spreads them wider. She looks up at Maria with big, innocent eyes. "I think this is what Fury wanted to happen all along. Am I right?" She kisses the soft inside of Maria's upper thigh.

"You're too smart for your own good. He admitted it had nothing to do with teamwork skills. He just thought you needed a break and that we'd be good together." She curls her fingers in Natasha's hair. "I think so too."

"Fury, the matchmaker. He's actually pretty good at it."

"Who knew? Now, where were we?"

"I think we were...," Natasha presses a gentle kiss on Maria's labia, "just about...," then another, "here." She licks up into Maria's clit and revels when she hears the catch in Maria's breath.

"Enough talk, Agent Romanoff," Maria pants. "A little more team play."

"Is that an order?"

"Definitely."

Natasha complies with enthusiasm.


End file.
